


The Windows to the Soul

by Kaiserkorresponds



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Hurt Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Hurt/Comfort, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Gets a Hug, M/M, Martin Blackwood Loves Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Protective Martin Blackwood, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Sleep Deprivation, Trauma, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29995620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiserkorresponds/pseuds/Kaiserkorresponds
Summary: "Jon, sweetheart." Martin whispered, nipping at the edges of his own lips. "You've got to wake up."Jon let out a harsh whine, panting through clenched teeth."Jon, darling." Martin carefully brushed a hand over the sharp angle of his shoulder. "It's time to wake up."Jon twitched, but his eyes still remained screwed shut."Love, you have to–"Jon bolted up with a scream; his hands fisted into the sheets harshly enough to rip, and his eyes– which had been so fiercely closed– snapping open."Jon!"--Jon has awful nightmares in the safehouse and Martin tries to help the best he possibly can.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 17
Kudos: 122





	The Windows to the Soul

The circles under his eyes were so deep. So soul wrenchingly deep; less of the charcoal smudges Martin had worried over during their time in the Archives, and more of a chasm. Deep and dark and reminiscent of a trench rather than a puddle. 

A sigh escaped Martin before he could nip it back, the soft sound of it echoing in the quiet.

Jon looked wretched, those circles carved under his eyes and the sharp angles of his cheekbones piercing out from the skin beneath. Even across the thin bridge of his lips– the skin of which was chapped beyond belief and raw with endless nights of biting down on screams– rested a deep frown; one that refused to budge, even in sleep. 

The frown that shattered Martin's heart. 

He could have withstood the acerbic, pointed twist of the lips that Jon had angled toward him so many times, so many years ago. Condescension falsely masking anxiety, and the bite of it tempered only by the fact that he now knew that Jon had been externalizing only the tiniest bits of the turmoil that had been roiling inside. 

He'd bear the weight of a thousand times that turmoil now; instead of being forced to watch as Jon's face creased, and whimpers spilled from between the tight cinch of his lips. 

"Jon, sweetheart." Martin whispered, nipping at the edges of his own lips. "You've got to wake up." 

Jon let out a harsh whine, panting through clenched teeth. 

"Jon, darling." Martin carefully brushed a hand over the sharp angle of his shoulder. "It's time to wake up." 

Jon twitched, but his eyes remained screwed shut. 

"Love, you have to–" 

Jon bolted up with a scream; his hands fisted into the sheets harshly enough to rip, and his eyes– which had been so fiercely closed– snapping open. 

"Jon!" Martin cried, unable to stop the sound from being torn from his own throat. "Love, you have to– you've gotta breathe." 

Jon's chest jerked erratically, and in the dim light, the bruises beneath his eyes appeared as if they were weights rather than simple discoloration. 

"Jon." Martin said, forcing his tone to even steady despite the mournful ache growing behind his ribs. "Look at me, love. Look at me." 

"Martin." Jon gasped and his dark eyes locked onto Martin's, the weight of his panic choking even through the contact. 

"I'm here, darling. I'm right here. Is there anything I can get for you– anything I can do to help?" 

"I–" Jon stuttered. "I'm so tired." 

The sob nearly broke Martin's heart. The wretched admittance buried in it like a shard of glass buried in an ancient carpet. Not entirely unseen, but still a jarring, slicing shock when it was revealed. 

"Oh, Jon." 

Carefully, measuring his motions with the utmost caution, Martin enveloped Jon's tiny form in an embrace. 

The hug was far harsher than he'd have ever imagined. Each of the fragile bones that pierced out from under Jon's skin was another sharpened blade of contact, and each of the tears that dripped from his gaunt cheeks onto Martin's chest served as another reminder of his countless traumas. 

"Shhh, it's okay. You're– you're okay." 

Martin gently rubbed Jon's quivering back, his hand ghosting over each of his remaining ribs and the myriad of scars. 

"You're alright, love. It's okay." He soothed. "You're– we're alright." 

"Martin." Jon hiccuped, his chest convulsing under Martin's fingers. "M‐Martin." 

"I know. I know, love." Martin whispered. "Is there anything I can do?" 

"I– I wanna sleep." 

Martin's already shattered heart fractured into another thousand pieces. 

"What can I do that'll help with that?" He murmured. 

Jon let out another awful, choking sound. "I– just keep hugging. Please." 

"I can do that, love." 

In his own traitorous chest, Martin vainly wished he could do more. As if he could reverse the past and wipe those dark smudges from underneath Jon's eyes, and the trauma that laid hidden beneath the bruising, away. 

"That's no trouble at all." He whispered instead, gently tightening his grip. "You just– you rest, love." 

Slowly– at a near painful pace– Jon's chest went still, his rapid, panicked heaves for breath falling into a soft rise and fall that whistled through his tear sodden throat. His entire body gradually losing its tension as the will to fight drained out of him until he was nothing more than a limp weight against Martin's shoulder. 

Gently, as if he would shatter, Martin carefully arranged Jon's prone form across his chest. Carefully placing his weakened body against his own and allowing him to rest his burdens there– to provide a mooring in the storm– for as long as it took for him to feel well again. 

And if the position hid those painfully dark circles, if only for a second, Martin refused to examine his own motivations for the close knit cuddle.

**Author's Note:**

> Some JMart nightmare angst !! Bc I know for certain that Jon couldn't have had an easy time adapting to the night terrors !! Especially in an unfamiliar place at first !! <3 
> 
> [This ,,, might have also been inspired by me not sleeping for the past few days ??] 
> 
> If you enjoyed plz drop me a kudos/comment !!! I love interaction !!


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